Discretion is the Better Part of Valor
by nonyvole
Summary: Deep down, Skye just wants to protect her team. Meeting the infamous Agents Barton and Romanoff only trigger those urges.
1. Chapter 1

Mandatory disclaimer: none of this is mine. Tried to meet Stan Lee to say thank you for being part of the team of builders of this sandbox for us to play in, but he had to leave the convention early.

Second mandatory disclaimer: there are references to poor coping skills, badly managed grief, off-screen deaths, language, apparently not-so-mild threats, lots and lots of drinking, and more will be added before the relevant chapters.

Third mandatory disclaimer: muchos love to my betas and cheerleaders. This has been sitting around on my Dropbox for over a year, so obviously it is pre-Winter Soldier, pre-Age of Ultron, and takes place partially through the first season of Agents of Shield. Clint and Natasha are high enough in the system to know that hey, Coulson lives...

And if you're wondering, yes, this is getting cross-posted.

* * *

There was something oddly soothing about the Hub, Coulson mused as he led his team through the chaos. A strange synchronicity about it all, even though one could never predict what would happen. "We're heading over to Logistics for now. Fitz, Simmons-" A break in the patterns had him narrowing his eyes slightly. "Wait here."

As the others nodded and clustered together, Coulson wound his way towards where the pattern breaks were leading to. "Barton, Romanoff."

"Coulson." Clint nodded then grinned. "What brings you here?"

"Upgrades. Come and meet my team?"

Natasha glanced at her watch. "We have time. Is this where they stashed you? Or are you someplace else?"

"We have one of the old planes," Coulson explained as he led the pair back to where Skye was starting to look disgruntled. "Agents Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, you know Agent May-"

"Melinda!" Clint practically crowed. "He got you out of desk duty!"

"Agent Grant Ward; Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, science; and Skye, civilian consultant."

"Skye?" Natasha glanced at Clint with a raised eyebrow. "Rising Tide?"

"Only Skye I've heard of, so maybe? She matches that picture that was sent around a couple months ago. I don't know if you got it – it was one of those 'warning, cute but stupid' things that gets sent around sometimes. She had hacked Level Seven, Eight stuff. General thought is that she's just lacking tact and common sense. I think she's immature." Clint's face went still and he ignored Skye's glare before grinning again. "So, upgrades? Thought Hand and Sitwell had you bunch in the doghouse after the last time you were here? Nat and I saw the report on that little Georgian deal."

"Some of us were. Not all." May's face was carefully still. "Barton, Romanoff, why are you two here? I thought you were normally closer to the Triskelion."

"Mission briefings." Clint shrugged. "You know the drill. Where are we going this time, Nat?"

"Belarus. We're going in to cause our normal death and destruction." Natasha smirked slightly. "He slept through the first briefing as usual."

"Because I know what they are. They're always the same. Go here, do this, maybe even do that if we've got the time. As long as something like Budapest _never_ happens again." Clint rolled his eyes. "It's the later ones that I really care about." He lightly nudged Fitz with an elbow. At the scientist's startled glance, he leaned closer and whispered, "Like when they tell us if Nat has to dress up in that little black dress again." He reflexively ducked Natasha's swing. "Not here, Nat, they'll get ideas!"

"Wait," Skye waved off May and Grant's gestures to stay quiet. "What do you two _do_ here? Barton? Romanoff? Were you two in New York?"

"When?" Clint's stare had Skye squirming slightly. "I've been to New York a lot. Even have an apartment there. With the Chitauri? I'm the only archer here I know of. And what do we do here? Classified _way_ above your level."

"They're high-level special agents, specializing in covert operations and assassinations. Two of the best that SHIELD has, if not _the_ best." Ward finally spoke up. "Ask around, a lot of the field agents want to _be_ them."

"Hero worship?" Skye turned to Ward with a raised eyebrow. "Am I hearing _worship_ from the great Agent Ward?"

"No! I-"

"Yes," Coulson sighed. "You are. It's not an unusual thing."

"Look," Clint had grabbed Natasha's wrist and was staring at her watch. "We were going to the Canteen to get some lunch. Do you guys want to come too? We really don't have a lot of time before our next briefing, and I'm hungry."

"We have all day." Coulson nodded. "And lunch would be appreciated."

"So," Skye slipped up next to Natasha. "Covert operations? You like a super-spy or something?"

"Or something." Natasha glanced at Skye. "However, you aren't cleared high enough to know specifics. Agent Ward has said all that he's allowed to say."

"Assassinations," Skye nodded. "No _way!_ " She stopped and stared at Natasha. "You're _her_! The one that's killed all those people in Russia!"

Natasha didn't stop walking. "Believe what you want to believe, but you have me mistaken with somebody else. Clint, I had a thought. Berlin to Helsinki."

"Sure, Nat, but where would we be able to get a dozen rubber snakes in Plovdiv?" Clint tilted his head to one side. "Unless you were thinking Paris, too?"

"Shanghai," Natasha said. She shrugged slightly at Clint's startled look. "It worked before, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Clint slowly said. "Hadn't thought about that angle. But if we're going that route…" he trailed off. "Ah! Prague! With the carthorse!"

"Prague." Natasha nodded with a small smile. "I like that one."

"Um, AC? Do you know what all that was about?" Skye hurried to catch up. "Because that _so_ totally didn't make sense."

"It's not supposed to, Skye, unless you know what they're talking about." Coulson didn't look around. "They have codes for almost everything. In this case, they were discussing cover stories." He paused. "I think. They might have also been talking about where they were going to get dinner tonight."

Clint nodded. "Cover stories. Sure, if that's what you want to think. Or it was complete and total gibberish, designed to confuse and distract."

May snorted softly. "It's gibberish."

Skye watched as Clint whispered something to May. When the woman stared at him, Clint grinned. "It only has to make sense to me and Nat."

"So wait." Skye shook her head, confused. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to," Clint calmly said. "The only people who have to understand what's going on are me, Natasha, and whoever assigned us the mission. And sometimes not even then – plausible deniability is a wonderful thing. Coulson, what were your plans for next month?"

"Right now?" Coulson looked thoughtful. "Nothing outside of the usual. Why?"

"Nat's going to need backup, if you're interested." Clint glanced out of the corner of his eye at Natasha. "And no, Nat, you don't get to argue this one."

* * *

"So." Skye leaned forward. "How _do_ you plan things out? Because everything I've seen so far is kinda…unplanned. AC and everybody usually just reacts, and the couple times stuff _was_ planned out, it was kinda presented as a done deal."

Clint and Natasha shared a long look before Clint shrugged and went back to his meal. Natasha nodded. "We are given data, a location, and a target. Using that, we decide how we will get there and how we will accomplish our mission. People may give us suggestions or expand upon our ideas, but we really do most of it ourselves. That is not the usual situation, however. Usually there is an entire team that will plan out operations."

"Our skins, our responsibility," Clint mumbled. "Better that way, too."

"What sort of equipment do you bring with you?" Fitz leaned forward eagerly. "Because I've managed to talk Agent Ward into using-"

"Fitz!" Ward snapped. "You didn't ' _talk'_ me into anything!"

"Depends on the mission." Clint didn't look up. "Like I said, Nat has a _great_ little black dress that she'll use sometimes, we each have our chosen weapons, and usually a phone or radio. We'll usually head to a SHIELD safe house or base first, then move on. Maybe some sort of identification and local money. Nothing that could tie us back to SHIELD, though, or really anything personal." His jaw tightened.

Natasha reached out and rested her hand on Clint's shoulder. "Clint? Are you-"

"I'm _fine_ , Nat. Drop it. We'll go later."

"What about getting out?" Simmons spoke up. "I mean, if you're willing to share…that?"

"Yeah." Skye ignored the warning looks. "I know that Coulson got really pissed when Ward and Fitz didn't have an extraction plan. So what about you two?"

"There usually aren't SHIELD assets in place to assist us." Natasha tilted her head to one side. "We also prefer to travel light and focus on what we set out to do."

"You mean you don't _have_ extraction plans?"

"No. We _never_ have extraction plans." Clint's eyes went dead. "Because we _are_ our own extraction plans…and if we don't make it out, then oh well. Hopefully we finished our assignment before they took us out. We get caught?" He shrugged with a sideways glance at Coulson. "May came after me a few times, the hostage rescue team came in another couple times, but that was really it. Nat and I are on our own out there, and that suits us just fine."

"But," Skye took a bite of her salad. "How can you-"

"Do not ask us that," Natasha interrupted. "We have our reasons, and they're ours alone."

"But what about your friends and families?" Skye was suddenly aware that Coulson and Natasha were both focused on Clint. Clint's eyes were closed and he was taking deep breaths.

Natasha didn't look around. "We don't go on known suicide missions, nobody does, but we also have no other real ties outside of each other and one or two other people. Isn't that right, Coulson?"

Coulson winced. "Not my call, Romanoff. As I told Barton, repeatedly."

Natasha sniffed. "Whatever."

"Your call? About what?" Skye looked around curiously.

"Classified," was the response from Coulson, Clint and Natasha, with Clint throwing in "And that's not an invitation to go digging, either." He leaned forward. "If I find out that _anybody_ has been looking into places that – they – shouldn't be looking? You'll find out what covert ops _really_ means." Clint shoved himself back from the table and stood up. "Nat? We need to get moving. Sitwell's been impatient recently, and Hand was looking touchy at the morning briefing. Not to mention Quartermain…" He shook his head. "I think I've gotten a few more ideas worked out."

"Oh?" Natasha stood up. "Were you thinking up close or distance?"

"I always say distance, but we might be able to integrate with the locals this time. _Strange_ community, though, a bit like that group in Pakistan. I may have to learn to knit again." Clint absentmindedly waved. "Coulson, May, don't be strangers. Ward, Skye, nice meeting you two. Fitz, Simmons, think large-scale biological explosives that can be carried in a lightweight package."

Coulson faintly smiled as the two wandered off. "They're a good pair. Nice people."

"You're calling them _nice_." Skye was staring at the door. "They just _threatened_ me, Coulson!"

"That?" May sniffed. "That was nothing. If anything, you might find a few notes in your bed, and good luck at catching either one of them in the act. Their files – anybody above Level Seven, actually – are locked down incredibly tightly. The trick that you used last time? Wouldn't work. And they're so paranoid I wouldn't be surprised if they checked access logs on a regular basis."

"Weekly, sometimes daily." Coulson nodded. "Skye, before you ask, I have worked with them in the past, but we're also friends. Somewhat." He tilted his head to one side in an awkward nod. "Barton's actually been around almost as long as I have. One of my earliest missions was to go and recruit him." He chuckled. "I think he was waiting for me, because the first words out of his mouth were 'Fury sent you? Good. I want a burger, a beer, and a chance to sleep for a week before I'll start jumping through your hoops.' He'd been in Bosnia."

"But, but," Skye sputtered. "Who does he think he is?"

"Skye, I'm telling you as your Supervising Officer, _drop it_." Skye looked surprised at Ward's order. "It's for your own good."

"Um, sir?" Simmons spoke up hesitantly. "I _had_ heard a rumor. You know, about the time that Agent Romanoff found that her file had been accessed by a junior agent. What happened to him?"

"Their 'free agent' card came into play," Coulson said shortly. "He'd tried to blackmail the two of them, only to find out that they play for keeps. And, well, I was the one to find the body the first time I'd seen either one of them get mad. It…wasn't pretty. And ever since then I've been passing it along that you do _not_ cross Barton or Romanoff."

"I heard," Fitz leaned forward, "that they'd tried using some ancient Roman torture technique. And cut off his _tongue_."

"If that's what you've heard, it must be true." Coulson nodded and glanced at his watch. "Enough gossip. We have things to do."

May hung back slightly. "You know that they didn't kill the guy."

"But for the cult of Barton and Romanoff?" Coulson nodded. "The thought that he's working as a desk guard in Siberia isn't nearly as exciting as thinking that they flayed him alive."


	2. Chapter 2

Nony doesn't forget her stories, nor that she hasn't finished them. But Nony is fighting with several chronic conditions, one of which makes it very, very hard to do things, even with medication that is supposed to keep depression tied down and ADHD in check, which means that she simply doesn't have the energy or focus to keep up with a lot of things. (Exhibit A: her entire house.)

Just as a reminder, this is set during season 1 of Agents of SHIELD. Skye is still finding her place with the team, and HYDRA is simply in the history books.

* * *

"Barton," Skye whispered to herself. "There has to be a story there. Romanoff didn't seem like she was in charge." She quickly pulled Google up and typed in Agent Barton's name. Her eyes narrowed. "I don't think he's a lawyer…" Refining her search didn't take long and Skye sat back in shock at the tabloid articles that she had found.

"'Family massacred in broad daylight, no witnesses!'" she read off. Another title was just as lurid. "'Unsolved mysteries…he says no, we say YES!'" Biting her lip, Skye shook her head. "SHIELD wouldn't…would they? No. They wouldn't. They…would." She sat back when she found a picture of a blond-haired man being escorted by police – and Agent Coulson. "AC? No way." She leaned forward and stared at the other man. It took a couple minutes, but she finally was able to match the man in the picture with the memory of the man that she'd met at the Hub.

She couldn't find anything more. "Ugh," Skye groaned. "Okay. There has to be something out there. I wonder…" she bent over her laptop and started typing. Humming softly under her breath as she worked, Skye quickly broke into Rising Tide's database. "Okay. Barton…murders…2006." What she found made her shake her head. "Still nothing? Really?" She glanced up when she heard Ward calling her name. "Yeah, I'm coming!" Staring back down at her laptop worriedly, she slowly shut the screen. She had other options.

* * *

"Skye." Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just ask me that. And I'm _not_ going to tell them that you did ask, because then I'll have to deal with them ganging up on you. So drop it."

"But Agent Coulson!" Skye held out a piece of paper. "I found all this. He's _dangerous_!"

"Covert operators usually are." Coulson didn't look at the paper. "Give the man some privacy, Skye. You don't need to know. Just know that he won't hurt the people that he cares about, and that includes the vast majority of SHIELD."

"I…" Skye took a breath and plunged forward. " _Look_ , Agent Coulson! A family was _killed_! He was the _only_ suspect! And _you're_ in here!"

Coulson's head shot up and he grabbed at the paper. "Where did you find that?"

"Google. Kinda?" Skye hedged. "Few other places?"

"Ah." Coulson relaxed. "You do realize that the picture you're referring to has nothing to do with those headlines? This was in relation to a mission that Agent Barton was on; it was supporting his cover story. Those headlines…" he shook his head. "They don't have anything to do with Agent Barton. Now if you'll excuse me, Skye, I have some things to do." Calmly spinning around, he headed for the stairs to his office.

"Nothing?" Skye's voice had Coulson mentally groaning. "Come _on_ , AC! You can't just leave me hanging like that! There's something going on, I know it!"

"Skye! I told you to drop it!" Coulson turned around and crumpled the paper in his hand. "There is _nothing_ for you to find! The only thing that is 'going on' is the fact that we're heading out to find out what is happening in Tibet! Now go help FitzSimmons." He ignored Skye's grumble as he started climbing. He thought about sending a message about Skye to Clint or Natasha, but decided not to. Skye was nosy, but Coulson had been there when Clint's record had been cleared, down to news reports. There wasn't anything _for_ her to find outside of SHIELD files, and she didn't have the access or the help to access them.

* * *

"Go ask Coulson." Ward's words were interspersed with thumps as he hit the punching bag. "He knows them better than I do."

Skye shrugged and wrapped her arms around her waist. "I did."

"And?"

"And he kinda told me to…drop it?" Skye's voice was hesitant. "But I _can't_ , Ward."

"Why can't you?" Ward paused and looked over at Skye. "Because if Agent Coulson says to drop it, you should drop it."

"I…I don't know. There's something _weird_ going on with them!" Skye stalked to one side of the bay and back. "I found some stuff online about Agent Barton and it's kinda making me worried?"

"Look, Skye." Ward reached out and grabbed her shoulders. "There isn't anything to be worried about. They're two of the best that SHIELD has; they aren't about to turn around and go after people inside of SHIELD without good reason. They're friends with Agent Coulson, too, some of the stories out there include all _three_ of them. So I'd think that they'd extend that consideration to the people that he works with, too."

"A family _died_ , Ward!" Skye twisted free. "A family named Barton! And only the husband survived! I don't know anything else, but that doesn't seem _right_."

"Agent Barton wouldn't do anything like that." Ward's voice was firm. "Agent Romanoff wouldn't, either."

"But how do you _know_ that? All you know about them is their reputation!"

"And it's that reputation that tells me that they wouldn't!" Ward spun back to the punching bag. "Look, Skye, please. Just drop it. After everything they've done, they don't deserve to have people go digging. I mean, they were _crucial_ in the Battle of New York! Agent Romanoff has brought more intelligence out of Eastern Europe than any other three people – combined! Agent Barton is what every sniper _dreams_ of being! I regret every single person I've ever killed. From what I've heard, he _doesn't_. He is one of the best assassins that SHIELD has ever seen!"

"Maybe that's because he doesn't have a _soul_ , Ward!" Skye shot back. "All you're telling me is what the rumors say! How do you _know_ that they're not dangerous? How do you know that Agent Barton won't suddenly snap one day and take everybody out?" Spinning on her heel, she headed for the stairs. "You don't understand. _Nobody_ understands. They're all too busy…too busy _worshipping_ at the feet of those two."

* * *

"Hey, Fitz." Skye leaned on the table next to the scientist. "Gotta question for you."

"Yes?" Fitz glanced over. "About what?"

"That rumor that you were talking about a few weeks ago at the Hub. About Agent Barton and how he and Agent Romanoff killed some guy." Skye leaned closer. "And how they cut off his _tongue_."

"Oh, they really wouldn't do that. At least, I don't think so. News about people like them really doesn't get around much, after all, or at least not to people like me." Fitz looked back down. "All that I know is what everybody in SHIELD knows. Do what you're told to do, leave people alone, and hope that you don't catch the eye of anybody higher ranked than you in a bad way. Or sometimes even a good way."

"Oh." Skye glanced at her hands. "Because I kinda found something online. Coulson took the picture away, but it was him and Agent Barton being escorted into a police station."

"I'm sure they had their reasons." Fitz suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Skye, as a friend, please just drop it. I'm _quite_ happy with people not really knowing who I am and the idea that two people in covert operations know my name and asked me and Jemma to dream up some ideas makes me nervous. We're just Level Five! They're…not! They're higher!" He waved one hand in agitation. "They're at _least_ Level Seven, if not higher, and nobody really knows just _how_ high everything goes here!"

"I…see." Skye slowly exhaled. "Why don't you want them to know about you?"

"Because if _they_ know who some of us are, what's to stop them from telling more people! And then even more people!" Fitz waved his hands in the air. "I'm _quite_ happy here!"

Skye opened her mouth. She shut it again. "I don't follow?"

"Fitz, I found it. It was under your bed." Simmons hurried in and dropped a small device on the table. "And why was it there?"

"Oh!" Fitz suddenly nodded. "I had taken it up there with me the other night. I had an idea."

"And you couldn't have simply _written it down?"_ Simmons looked at Skye. "Hello, Skye."

"Simmons," Skye wasn't quite sure why she was feeling so desperate to know. "If you had questions about someb- something, you'd want to find out more, right?"

"Well, yes," Simmons said. "Although if it's not cleared for me to know, I'd certainly not try very _hard_. And if I asked about it and I was told to stop, I'd certainly stop. Why?"

"Agent Barton." Fitz had gone back to his computer. "Although why, I don't know."

"I was looking him and Agent Romanoff up. You know, because I was curious. Nothing on _her_ from Google, but I found a picture of him and Agent Coulson going into a police station surrounded by cops and some article headlines saying that a family had been _murdered_." Skye leaned around Fitz. "Doesn't that sound like somebody who's dangerous?"

"How do you know that he was the Barton you found in those headlines? Or that Barton is even his real name?" May's voice had Skye jumping. "Skye, you've been ordered to drop it, so drop it." She looked pointedly at Skye. "Wheels up in an hour, if you need anything from groundside before we leave."

* * *

It took Skye nearly a month before she was able to finally get out from the surveillance of the rest of her team. Coulson, May, and Ward had been dragged off to some meeting, leaving the other three at a SHIELD base in Arizona. Skye felt a sudden loss as FitzSimmons saw people that they knew and vanished before realizing that _this_ was the perfect time for her to go further into the SHIELD database. Finding an open computer terminal in a relatively empty room, Skye slipped in a USB drive and held her breath, hoping that her program would still work. "Alright!" She whispered when she wasn't kicked off and no alarms were triggered. "Okay. Barton, C. and Romanoff, N."

She sat back when the files started appearing. "Whoa. That's a lot." Leaning forward, Skye had a name jump out at her. "Belarus. Wonder what that one was." She moved to click it before noticing the personnel files. "Even _better_."

" _What_?" Skye glanced over her shoulder to make sure her sudden outburst hadn't been noticed. "That's not possible!" The icon for the file was flashing red and a pop-up box was demanding a password. Shaking her head, she bent over the keyboard. There was a story there, and she wanted – no, _needed_ – to know. The way that everybody else talked about the two agents and the things that she'd found demanded explanations. "Especially after what AC said," she muttered.

She lost herself in her work after that. Getting frustrated when the protections only _improved_ , Skye switched over to trying to look at old mission reports, then Agent Romanoff's personal file, then _anything_ that had their names on it.

"No." Skye shook her head when she saw the time. "That isn't _possible!_ " She'd been trying to break into the files for hours, and the most she'd gotten were some file names. A second glance at the time had her scrambling to close everything down. She had to get back to the plane and hope that people hadn't noticed her hacking attempts. She couldn't believe that somebody had kept her out – _nobody_ was able to keep her out.


	3. Chapter 3

Pro-tip: Clint has some very, very poor coping skills. Drinking to oblivion is never a good idea. Nor is using illicit drugs. If you feel like giving up, talk to somebody, because there are always options other than how Clint is dealing that don't involve death or self-harm.

Potential trigger warning - implied death of children.

* * *

Clint groaned and rolled over, slapping at his alarm clock. When the beeping didn't stop, he sat up and stumbled out of bed, trying to figure out where it was coming from. "Computer," he muttered. "That's it." He felt a cold chill run over him when he opened his laptop and saw the alert. As he sat down, he reached out for his phone. "Nat. Somebody's trying to get into our stuff. Get over here."

He lost himself in the computer after that. The knock on his door startled him, and he glanced between it and his laptop. He decided that he could spare the time after assessing just _how_ far in the hacker had gotten and in one swift motion shoved his chair back, stood up, and moved over to the door. Unlocking it and pulling it open Clint didn't bother waiting to see who was on the other side and hurried back to his desk.

"What are they going after?" Natasha didn't waste time as she sat on the floor and opened her own laptop. "And how far in have they gotten?"

"The search parameters were 'Barton, C. and Romanoff, N.' and not very," Clint rattled off with a longing glance at the calendar. "Dammit, Nat, I had _plans_ for today."

"Me too." Natasha's voice was grim. "And you and I both know that our plans overlapped. Although mine included less tears and more getting a damp shirt."

"Look, Nat, I'm allowed _one_ day…" Clint trailed off. "They're going for the personal stuff. I wonder who?"

"I don't see HYDRA, A.I.M., or any of those regular groups trying this again." Natasha scowled down at her laptop. "New agent?"

"Coulson's hacker. It has to be." Clint's shoulders slumped. "Dammit, I had thought he'd've…"

"Obviously not." Natasha frowned. "I'm tracing this back to a SHIELD base in Arizona. Cute but stupid, indeed."

Clint's lips tightened. "Of all days, Nat. I'm going to _kill_ somebody after this." His gaze flickered to a picture frame. "I'm sorry, Laura. I know, babe, I have to stay calm. But…" he paused. "She's going after you. That's not allowed."

"Clint," Natasha said quietly about 45 minutes later. The sounds from the two keyboards almost overrode her voice. "I think we're good for now."

" _No_." Clint shook his head. "She's giving up on our personal files, sure, but now she's going after mission files. I would _love_ to know what's going through her mind right now. Damned _idiot_."

"And find out why Coulson is letting her have this much freedom?" Natasha raised one eyebrow. "Calm down. What should we do with her?"

"I'd love to drag her off to containment until the sun rises in the west," Clint spat out. "But instead we're just going to have to put the fear of God into her."

"And the rest of them."

Clint made himself focus only on his computer. It kept the anger and the knowledge of just what day it was at bay. A sudden pressure and warmth on his elbow had him looking up.

"Eat something," Natasha said. "It's been a couple hours now, I don't think she'll get in. And I actually think she may have given up."

"But, Nat," Clint stared at the picture. "I…I can't."

"You don't eat willingly, I'll tie you down and force-feed you." Natasha was blunt. "So it's late afternoon and you slept the morning away, but there's still time for you to get very, very drunk."

"I…fine." Clint sighed with a long look at his computer. "I'm going to _kill_ her." His breath caught in his throat and he tried to cover it up by taking a long drink of the soup Natasha had prepared. "It's just…I have to…I don't know what to think."

"Killing her, as attractive as it may sound, isn't an option." Natasha pointed at the bedroom. "She's locked out again, so we can continue on with our original plans for the day. Do we tell Fury?"

"No." Clint stood up and grabbed the picture. Gently rubbing the glass with his thumb as he followed Natasha, he repeated, "No. But scaring her, definitely. And the-"

"The others, too." Natasha gently directed Clint over to his bed. "Clint, we'll figure it out. But for now," She sat down and with a firm tug pulled him down as well. "For now, think of your family. What would Laura have said to do with her?"

"Bed. No dinner." Clint's breath caught in his throat. "But…Callum was only _eight_ , Nat. Taking away his Gameboy was enough punishment for him. She's 24."

"I'd be happy with restricting her computer access." Natasha shifted and leaned her head on Clint's shoulder. She stared down at the family picture that he was carefully holding in his lap. "I'll never get tired of that picture, you know." She smiled fondly, remembering the day that she'd taken it. Clint was buried beneath his children with Laura holding his feet down. Everybody was laughing, and a large dog was trying to lick Clint's face. "It always makes me happy."

"Me too," Clint choked out before Natasha had to quickly grab at the picture frame. Dropping it on the bed behind them, she pulled Clint towards her. "Dammit, Nat. _Dammit_."

Natasha didn't try to hold back her own tears. " _Don't_ , Clint. Promise me that you'll stay. For me."

"It's _hard_ , Nat," Clint sobbed out. "Seven, seven damn years. It would have been Nicole's tenth birthday. Callum would be going for his learner's permit. _Why?_ "

Natasha didn't know how to answer. She just held Clint tightly.

* * *

Natasha sighed heavily and glanced over her shoulder. Clint was asleep, an empty bottle of whiskey carelessly shoved under the bed. She sniffed as she turned back around and focused on her computer. "Just don't leave me, Clint," she whispered. She shook her head when she saw the evaluations on Coulson's team. With the exception of Skye, everybody was clean, so what Clint had been saying before he finally passed out wasn't a logical response.

Carefully closing the laptop, she stood up and moved back to the bed. Clint hadn't stopped crying, even after he fell asleep, and Natasha didn't try to hide her own tears this time. She slipped into bed behind him and wrapped her arm over his waist as she leaned her forehead against the back of his neck. "Don't leave me alone, please Clint," she breathed. "Please."

" _Hurts_ , Nat," Clint moaned. "Evr'y…evr'y day." Since he'd been saying that for the past two hours, Natasha didn't reply. "More and more and more…" he trailed off with a whimper. " _Laura_. Why'd you leave me? Why dn't you go? Nic…Nicole'd've gone with you. Girl's'd safe. My girls…my boys. Daddy loves you all."

It was a familiar litany to Natasha. Every year Clint would let himself release all the pent-up grief and anger, and every year he'd end up sobbing in his bed. He never let himself be overtly comforted; Natasha had learned that after the second anniversary. The actual words might change, but the theme always remained the same. "Sleep, Clint. I've got your back."

"Don't want wake up." One of Clint's hands found Natasha's arm and squeezed. "Sleep forever."

Natasha tightened her own grip and offered what little comfort Clint would accept in his drunken state. Once his mumbles had faded down, she shifted slightly and pulled out her cell phone. "The usual," she texted to Fury. "Back tomorrow. Noon."

" _Problems_?" Natasha sighed at how _predictable_ Fury was.

She hit a button on her phone. "One problem, sir. Nothing that we won't be able to handle, and it was just bad timing."

" _Romanoff…if I have to lose two of my best…"_ Fury sounded tired. A glance at the clock told Natasha why.

"If you do, it will only be for a few days, and I will tell you," Natasha promised quietly. "Sir, get some rest, please."

" _Don't mother me, Romanoff. I can sleep when I'm dead. Out."_

Natasha rolled her eyes and shoved her phone under the pillow. "Ah, there it is," she murmured. "Clint, have some water." She narrowed her eyes at the label on the bottle. "Actually, don't. You don't want rum."

"Laura…" Clint slurred. "'M sorry. Love you forever, babe."

* * *

"Kill me now." The groan from the bed had Natasha looking up with a small smile. "How?"

"Sorry, Barton," Natasha didn't bother to hide her amusement. Or keep her voice down, and she laughed when Clint winced. "Under your bed."

Clint dropped one hand and felt around. "Oh," he said, staring at the bottle. "At least I grabbed something halfway decent. Thanks." He sat up and accepted the painkillers and Gatorade that Natasha held out. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye when she sat down on the bed next to him. "Was I?"

"No more than usual." Natasha slumped over. "Bit more on apologizing, bit less on tears. You didn't leave your bed."

"Okay." Clint relaxed slightly. "You know I don't-"

" _Don't_ lie to me, Clint," Natasha said harshly. She felt a visceral pleasure when he flinched. "You _know_ that I know that if it came down to it, you'd take the bullet. With pleasure, because you're hurting that much. Will you go off and kill yourself? I always worry about that." Natasha mentally sighed. Same story, different chapter…"Which is why you're not alone as much as you want to be."

Clint winced. "Nat…I…" he sighed. "It's getting worse, Nat. I don't want to get out of bed some days."

"Then talk to somebody. Get some meds. Just don't _give up_." Natasha shook her head and stood up. "Go shower, then we have to talk about other things." She didn't have the energy to go through their usual morning-after routine. "I'll go get breakfast started."

"Phil's hacker. Right." Clint levered himself to standing. "And I do talk to somebody, Nat, I talk to you and sometimes Nick. Not so much Phil these days. If you're talking about a shrink? They don't understand, they just tell me that 'it will get better, give it time. Maybe think about going to a grief group.' It's been seven years Nat, and it _hasn't_ gotten better. The grief groups I've found are all about people losing parents, friends. Usually to suicide. If you can find me somebody that will actually _listen_ , as well as you do, or a group that won't look at me funny when I _say_ that my entire family was _massacred_ in cold blood, then I'll try again. I ran out of bacon last week."

"Okay," Natasha sighed. "I'll see what else you have."

Clint headed for the bathroom. "Nat? Thanks."

When Clint appeared in his kitchen Natasha nodded. He looked better. "Okay. The hacker. What about her?"

"I don't know," Clint leaned against the counter and stole a pancake. "She was trying to get into some pretty restricted things."

Natasha pointed at her laptop. "The rest of Coulson's team is clean; I have their latest evaluations pulled up. Except for May's and Coulson's, but we know them. I don't think Hill was having a very good day when she did Ward's. They're good people, Clint."

"I know; Coulson wouldn't have tapped them otherwise." Clint didn't move. "Nat…I'm not about to kill myself. Honest. I have bad days, yeah, but I also have good days. It's just hard to get moving most mornings, but you see me. I do what needs to be done."

"Clint," Natasha said quietly as she turned off the stove, "I don't care. Maybe next year I'll _record_ you and then you'll see. You're hurting, you're covering it up, and I'm afraid that I'm going to lose you."

"Laura would kick my ass if I did?" Clint smiled hesitantly. "Even from beyond the grave? But enough about that, we need to figure out what we're going to do with Coulson's group."

"All of them?" Natasha nodded. "Set the table. And I just want her to learn restraint, respect, and some common sense. We can sneak onto the plane easily enough, and next month we'll have the time to do so. The rest of them just need to realize-"

"That they need to keep a better eye on her," Clint finished. "Thanks for breakfast, Nat. And the painkillers."

"Always." Natasha reached out and hit a few keys on her laptop. "So, we can hook up with them…" she trailed off.

"Nat?" Clint reached out and turned the laptop around. "Oh." He took a deep breath. "I'll deal. I'll go to the cemetery after."


End file.
